


The Runaways

by pepsicola



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Reckless Abandon, Sneaking Out, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepsicola/pseuds/pepsicola
Summary: Eric is fed up. He's ready to abandon it all: the town, school, his parents, his friends. The only thing he needs is Butters. Butters goes along with anything Eric says. It's something that's been a part of him since he met Eric when he was a tiny preschooler. This time, Eric wants them to vanish without a trace. He wants them to be runaways. And even though he doesn't share Eric's determination to leave, Butters is at the ready.
Relationships: Eric Cartman/Butters Stotch
Kudos: 20





	1. Gas Station

Butters sat on his bed, his elbow on the windowsill, and his cheek in his palm. The outside world seemed so serene. The summer green leaves of the trees rustled in the wind. The sky was slowly fading from blue to pink. Clouds drifted in and out of sight. From the corner of his eye, he could see his reflection on the glass of the window. He looked dreary, though he felt nothing but a fuming anger in the center of his chest. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. His parents grounded him for the littlest things, and it had been that way for as long as he could remember. At fifteen, that still hadn’t changed. This time, they’d grounded him for staying out past curfew. During the summer, he was to be home at eleven p.m. sharp, and last night, time so happened to slip his mind. It wasn’t his fault. Time didn’t exist when he was with Eric.

Though Butters’ parents didn’t know it was Eric he was with, he knew they had a feeling. He knew that they knew him and Eric spent every minute they could together. Butters’ parents hated that, so they used it as fuel for reasons to ground him.

It was evening. Butters’ parents had been home from church since noon. His mother was likely preparing dinner. Butters wouldn’t be able to eat with them at the table. His mother would bring up his plate to his room. After twenty minutes, Butters’ father would come up and collect it. It didn’t matter if Butters was finished or not; Stephen would take the plate from him and no protests were allowed unless Butters wanted his grounding sentence to be extended.

It happened just as Butters knew. Linda came in and put his plate of food on his desk. She brought up utensils and a glass of water. Butters knew he was lucky to have that glass. It meant his father was feeling generous. After coming back from the bathroom, Butters scarfed down his food as quickly as he could. He watched the time as he ate. He counted the minutes. His plate was cleared and his glass was drained by the time Stephen came up to collect the dinnerware.

Stephen had one hand on the doorknob. The other hand held the plate with the utensils and cup balanced on it. “Your mother and I are going to finish dinner. Then we’re going to bed. This is the last time for today we will be checking up on you. So goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Butters heard the lock on the door slide into place. He despised how his parents changed the lock on his door. He hated how it could only lock from the outside.

During groundings, Butters’ parents seldom checked on him to make sure he was asleep. They used to when he was younger, but as he grew older and as their words to him became fewer, they left him to his own devices. He could be up all night, and they wouldn’t care. He would have nothing to do anyway.

Butters sat on his bed, staring at the white sheets. They were soft under his hands. He listened to the low murmur of his parents talking downstairs. He listened to the clink of silverware. He waited five minutes. Once the five minutes passed, he got up from bed. He reached under his mattress, feeling around for the lock pick set he kept hidden there. His fingers brushed it, and he pulled it from its hiding place.

Butters knelt by his door, taking the tools from the case. He undid the lock quietly, making sure his parents downstairs wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Eric taught Butters to pick locks when Butters was thirteen. They had been only friends at the time. They’d gotten closer due to Liane’s engagement to Roger Donovan. Eric had needed him more than ever those days, so he taught Butters how to pick locks so he could escape every grounding he was faced with. Now, Butters was able to pick any lock as long as he had his set. He treasured it. Eric had given it to him as a gift. It was the very first gift Butters had received from him without it being Christmas or his birthday.

With the door unlocked, Butters crept into the hall and into his parents’ room. When he was grounded, they confiscated his phone and hid it so he couldn’t find it. They didn’t know that he was aware of where they hid it.

Butters went to his father’s dresser. He opened the second drawer, reaching for the very back. Before taking his phone, he felt the position, feeling which way it was facing. It was sideways, the screen facing up. Butters took his phone out. When his fingerprint went through, he sent Eric a text.

Meet me there

Butters returned his phone to its original position. He retraced his steps, closing the drawer, closing the door to his parents’ room. When he made it to his door, he locked it before going in and shutting it quietly.

He made quick work. He hid his lock pick set and grabbed his shoes. He kept them under his bed for these moments. He shoved his wallet in his pocket. He crawled onto his bed, facing the window above the garage. Butters undid the latch and pushed up the window. His parents didn’t bother changing the locks on his window even though they knew it was the primary way Eric got into his room. They knew that Eric would find a way to get in even if they put a laser grid over the glass.

The second thing Eric had taught Butters was the proper way to jump from heights. Butters dropped onto the roof, keeping his feet light so he would make as little noise as possible. He crouched and shoved his feet in his shoes. It felt like an eternity as he laced them up. As he made his way down to the ground, he repeated Eric’s lesson in his head over and over.

_Lift the window facing the garage. Shuffle onto the windowsill. Drop down to the roof of the garage. Jump to the ground. Bend your knees to absorb the shock of the fall._

Just as instructed, Butters bent his knees when he jumped from the roof of the garage. His father always left the side door of the garage unlocked in case of emergencies. Butters went in and got his bike. Once he’d wheeled it onto the road, he hopped on and rode east as fast as he could.

East was where the U-Stor-It was. East was where Eric would be. East was _there._

Those still roaming the town were blurry figures at the edge of Butters’ vision. He could see nothing but the road ahead of him. He could hear nothing but his breath in his ears.

At the U-Stor-It unit that was Professor Chaos’s lair, Butters spotted Eric’s bike abandoned in front of it. He dropped his bike next to Eric’s.

The lock to the door was undone and laying on the ground. Butters lifted the door just enough so he could get in. Once he was enveloped in the dim darkness of the unit, he let out a breath. Eric was sitting at one of the desk chairs in front of the Chaos computers. A lamp was on. He turned from looking at the Mysterion wall and locked eyes with Butters. It seemed to Butters that his eyes glowed.

They moved at once towards each other. Butters finally felt at home wrapped up in Eric’s arms.

“You okay?” Eric asked, speaking into the shell of Butters’ ear.

He nodded.

Eric was the first to pull away, and Butters felt desperate enough to pull him back in. He didn’t do it though, not with the way Eric was staring into him. Butters knew the look. Eric had looked at him that way when they kissed for the very first time. That was in April, when Butters had been thirteen for eight months, and Eric had been set to turn thirteen in three months. Now, Eric was fifteen as of last week. Butters felt that he should’ve been fifteen long before that though. He acted more than his age, and he didn’t look it either.

There was a deep longing set in Eric’s two-toned eyes. It was accompanied by restraint. They flickered side to side as they searched Butters’ face.

Eric was half an inch taller than Butters, and it made more of a difference than Butters would’ve liked. Though in truth, Butters really did like the difference.

“I’m fine,” Butters whispered. He felt that if he spoke any louder, the moment would end. “Honest.”

He liked the half inch difference in their heights because he could press up on his tiptoes to connect his lips to Eric’s. That’s what he did, elevating himself so he was level with Eric. He closed the space between them.

Butters felt like he was floating right off his feet. This was the reason time didn’t exist with Eric. Butters lost all feeling except one.

When the kiss ended, Butters realized he was still on the ground, on his tiptoes, so close to Eric that he could see every detail of his face. The traces of acne on his forehead. The bushiness of his eyebrows. His eyelashes that cast shadows over his irises. The way the corners of his lips that were usually in a downward tilt were lifted.

Eric didn’t have his hat, so Butters was free to run his fingers through Eric’s freshly cut hair. Butters watched Eric’s eyes fall shut. He led them back, and he collapsed in the chair he was sitting at when Butters came in. Only this time, Butters was on his lap, his fingers tangled in his hair.

They kissed for a long while. At least it felt that way to Butters. Heat was rolling over him in waves. It wasn’t because of the stuffy summer air trapped in the storage unit.

Eric shifted, pulling Butters from the lull of his lips. He heard the sound of breath when Eric broke the kiss. Eric put his lips to the corner of Butters’ mouth. He followed up by brushing a kiss to Butters’ cheek, his jaw, under his ear. From there, Eric kissed down the length of Butters’ neck. His fingers hooked around the collar of Butters’ shirt, tugging it down. He kissed and licked and bit Butters’ collarbone. Butters felt himself melt right in Eric’s arms. His head tilted back, and he was breathing heavily.

Eric began sucking on the spot. Butters was slow in realizing what he was doing. When it finally came to him, he protested weakly, “Eric, s-stop. When I go back home… and my parents see, I—I’ll be grounded longer.”

Eric didn’t stop. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard him.

He didn’t protest further. He wanted this to happen. It wasn’t often Eric left his mark on him.

Butters whimpered. His fingers curled into Eric’s hair at the nape of his neck when he felt Eric’s teeth graze his collarbone. The sensation was still new to him, and he felt a bit out of his mind.

Eric’s voice was low and husky when he said, “Your shirt will cover it. So chill.”

Hot shivers ran down Butters’ spine. He chilled, just as Eric said. He let himself drown in everything he was feeling.

Eric’s hands pushed up Butters’ shirt. His fingertips danced along the waistband of Butters’ boxers.

“I wanna try something,” Eric murmured into his neck.

Butters didn’t have words. He nodded.

When he felt Eric’s fingers disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts, he let out a squeak. His mind ran a mile a minute, but he could only think one thought over and over.

_He’s really going to do it. He’s really going to do it. He’s really going to do it._

In Eric’s room during a Christmas party, Butters had blown Eric for the first time. He’d joked that Eric would return the favor. During the months after December, when the two were alone, Butters would give Eric head for fun despite Eric never doing the same for him. Butters didn’t mind it. He liked how he could make Eric chuckle breathlessly with his head thrown back, and he liked it when Eric ran his fingers through his hair and told him he was doing so _good._ And after Eric came, he would have Butters rest his back against his chest so he could easily slide his hand down Butters’ pants. Butters hardly thought about Eric returning the favor when he was jerking him off while his other hand was pressed over Butters’ mouth to keep him quiet. But now, Butters guessed Eric would finally do it.

He was right.

Once it was over, Butters couldn’t move. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Eric didn’t spit like Butters did his first time. He’d also been a lot more squirmy and loud and vocal than Eric had been. Butters could tell Eric loved that he was flustered, but Butters was still embarrassed that he couldn’t control himself.

Eric stood above him, caressing his face with his thumbs. He was smirking triumphantly. He leaned down and kissed Butters’ gaping mouth.

“Let’s go on the roof,” Eric said against his lips.

Life caught up with Butters. “Just a sec,” he said. He grabbed Eric’s face and kissed him hard, shoving his tongue in his mouth. He quickly realized he was tasting himself and abruptly pulled away.

Eric laughed, running his tongue over his lips. He slipped his hand into Butters’. “C’mon. You can suck my dick while I watch the sunset,” he said.

Butters couldn’t be too mad about the arrangement, especially not after what Eric did for him.

On the roof, Eric laid down with his hands tucked under his head. He put his legs apart, jerking his brows at Butters. “I’m ready.”

Butters scoffed and laughed, bending down to kiss Eric before situating himself between his legs.

Eric did just what Butters liked. He ran a hand deep in his hair. He murmured, “Fuck, Butters. You’re doing so fucking good. That’s it.”

Eric smoothed down Butters’ hair, only to run his fingers through it again. He hummed, “I always knew you were a cocksucker.”

Butters said, “I am not,” but his words were impossible to decipher.

Eric laughed. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t make it out. It seems that you have my cock in your mouth.”

Butters pulled off, feeling his face get hotter than it already was. For a moment, he grasped for a comeback, but he gave up and returned to tending to Eric.

After Eric came, they sat up and watched the remainder of the sunset together. The sun was dipping low between the mountains, bright burning orange. The clouds were golden. The sky around was streaked in color.

Butters nuzzled his cheek into Eric’s shoulder. He could still taste Eric on his tongue. He’d gotten used to the particular taste after the fourth blowjob.

Eric had his arm around Butters’ waist. His hand was under Butters’ shirt, rubbing his stomach the way he usually did after he made Butters cum. “So you got grounded again, huh?” he said.

Butters sighed deeply. “Yeah.”

“Was it because I kept you too late?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry bout it. I don’t blame you.”

Eric was silent for a moment. Butters listened to the light breeze pass over them.

When the air settled, Eric said, “We should run away.”

Butters looked at him.

He still had his gaze ahead. Butters wondered if he had his contact lenses in. He bet he did. Eric continued, “We should run away from all of it. This town, your parents, my parents, school, our friends.” He looked at Butters. Determination was set in stone in his eyes. “We could do it. We could do it right now. You and me. We can do anything together.”

Butters felt himself smiling softly. He touched Eric’s cheek. “Course we could do it,” he said. “We’re unstoppable together.”

Eric frowned. “So why don’t we?”

Butters’ hand fell to Eric’s lap. He bit his lip. Eric took his hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles. Butters said, “ ‘Cause we’re only fifteen. We don’t got enough money. We can’t even drive yet. We won’t get far if we can’t drive.”

Eric grumbled, “It seems like we had more freedom to do shit and not get found out so easily when we were ten.”

Butters giggled. “It’s the responsibility. It gets to you.”

The corner of Eric’s mouth tilted up. “I’m not responsible,” he said matter-of-factly.

Butters tapped the tip of Eric’s nose. “Oh, but you are. We’ve kept us secret for nearly two years now. You gotta have responsibility to do that. Without you remindin’ me to hush up, the secret woulda been spoiled a long time ago,” he said.

Eric’s shoulders relaxed. Everything about his demeanor seemed to soften as he laced his fingers with Butters’. “Can you believe we’ve been together for almost two years?” he murmured.

Butters listed his head. “Some part of me can, some part of me can’t.” He paused. He used his free hand to brush Eric’s hair from his forehead. “We shouldn’t run away.”

“Why?” Eric asked.

“ ‘Cause we got it good here. More or less. We can’t be ungrateful.”

Eric’s face twitched in mild disagreement. “You don’t have it too good.”

“But I got a roof over my head and food on the table. That’s all I need.” More softly, he added, “And I got you.”

Eric searched Butters’ eyes, looking for any reluctance or hesitance in his statement. Butters knew he wouldn’t find any. And when he didn’t, he leaned forward and put his lips to Butters’.

One kiss turned the sky hazy coral to deep blue to black and star-studded.

They left the U-Stor-It, walking their bikes instead of riding them. The silence between them was comfortable. The soft clicking of the chains of their bikes fell into rhythm with their footsteps along the quiet neighborhood.

At his house, Butters returned his bike to where it had been in the garage. All the lights in the windows were out. His parents were asleep.

Butters stood on his doorstep. Eric stood on the walkway, still holding up his bike. There was the smallest gap of space between them. Butters could see the stars in Eric’s eyes.

Eric whispered, “We can still do it. We can still leave right now if you want. No one would know where we’d go.”

Butters smiled. He cupped Eric’s face in his hands. “I’m sure.” He pressed their lips together.

When the kiss ended, Eric didn’t pull back. His words ghosted over Butters’ lips, “If you wanna run away, you know where to find me. I’ll meet you there.”

Eric biked away after those words.

His words left with Butters meant something deeper than _I love you._ Butters didn’t have a word for it, nor could he describe it, but he felt it in his core. It was something only he and Eric could ever feel.

Butters stood on his doorstep, watching Eric disappear down the street. Butters sometimes wished Eric still lived next door and not a street down with Clyde. If it weren’t for Liane and Roger’s relationship, though, Butters wondered if he and Eric would even be together at all.

Butters kept a spare key in his wallet, and he used it to get into the house.

He made sure everything in his room was as it was before he left. He tucked himself into bed after changing into his pajamas. He hugged his pillow to him. He let himself pretend it was Eric. He stared out at the sky and the stars, knowing Eric was seeing the same as he was.

The next morning assured Butters that his parents had no knowledge that he snuck out. He smiled into his bowl of cereal, remembering Eric’s words to him. _If you wanna run away, you know where to find me. I’ll meet you there._

* * *

After school one day in sophomore year, Eric told Butters that he needed to go to Photo Dojo. They were walking from the bus stop.

“All right,” Butters said.

They continued straight instead of turning left towards Eric’s house.

Butters had his hands in his jacket pockets, and he felt a tug on his right sleeve. His hand dropped from his pocket. Fingers slid between his. Butters turned to Eric and smiled at him. Eric smiled back. It was May, and they had been public with their relationship since September. It felt good to be able to hold hands in front of others, though they were still hesitant to go further than that. They still felt the need to cover up their romantic actions. Butters supposed keeping their relationship secret for two years had that mindset imprinted in their brains.

Butters swung their hands as they walked down the street. The sun was warm on his face. There were few people out. Adults were at work and students were home playing video games instead of doing homework.

On Main Street, they went into Photo Dojo. Eric made a beeline for the counter. He took a USB from his pocket and said, “Did I need to bring a USB or something to print these pictures? Because I did anyway.”

The man behind the counter said, “Well, you usually place an order through our website and upload pictures there, then come here to pick them up, but I could get them printed with the USB if you’d like.”

Eric shrugged. “Cool.”

The man took the USB from Eric.

Eric led Butters to an empty wall so he could lean against it as they waited. He grabbed Butters by the waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Butters rested his cheek on Eric’s shoulder, smiling dreamily up at his face. Eric caught his eye, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

After the pictures were printed and Eric paid for them, they went outside. They started their way home.

Butters asked, “What pictures did you get printed?” He had his chin on Eric’s shoulder, staring down at the white envelope in his hand. He hugged Eric’s arm to his chest. “You’ve never gotten pictures printed before.”

Eric turned his head, his nose brushing Butters’ cheek. He grinned. His words breezed over Butters’ skin, “I wanted something to hold instead of having to stare at a set of pixels on a phone screen.” He broke the seal of the envelope and pulled out the photos.

The first was a close-up of Butters sticking his tongue out with his eyes squeezed shut and his nose scrunched up.

Butters asked, “I don’t remember you takin’ that. When was it?”

Eric said, “Eighth grade, I think.” He put the picture behind the others.

The next was of the two of them in Butters’ bedroom. They were on his bed, kissing deeply. Eric had his arm hooked around the back of Butters’ neck. It was a blurry picture, because when Butters heard the shutter of Eric’s camera go off, he pushed Eric’s phone away. That was early January of freshman year.

“Wasn’t that the day after New Year’s?” Butters wondered.

“It _was_ New Year’s,” Eric said.

After that photo was another of them kissing, only this time, Butters was kissing Eric’s cheek. He had his arms draped over Eric’s bare shoulders, and Eric was half-smiling at the camera. His hat was off, and his hair was frizzy. Butters remembered he’d just gotten out of the shower. Butters looked closer and saw water droplets on Eric’s shoulders.

“You took that on the last day of freshman year,” Butters mused.

Eric nodded. “Yeah, I think it was.”

The next photo was of recently, during the holiday break in December. They were on Eric’s couch. Eric was laying on his back, Butters was laying with his ear over Eric’s heart. They were in T-shirts and fuzzy pajama pants. Butters was missing a sock, while Eric had none on. They were both focused on the TV. Some baking show was on. Neither of them took that picture—Clyde did.

Butters smiled down at the photo.

The last picture was also of him. It was the top half of his face. His eyes were closed. The only part of Eric in the shot was his hand gripping Butters’ hair. The picture was semi-dark. Butters could see that in the photo, a pillow was under his head, and some of the headboard of Eric’s bed was in frame.

Butters stared, puzzled, at the image. He didn’t understand what it was, and he didn’t remember Eric taking it.

Eric started snickering. Butters looked at him. “What is it?” he asked.

Eric burst out laughing. “You don’t get it, huh?” he said.

“No.”

Eric smirked. “That’s you giving me head from a week ago.”

The memory flashed through Butters’ mind. Making out on Eric’s bed. Feeling hot all over. Eric placing Butters’ palm over the tent of his sweatpants. Butters’ hand slipping under the waistband.

He also remembered seeing their friends the next day and his voice being shredded. His throat burned when he talked. His friends had asked him why he was being so quiet, so he came up with the excuse that he had a mild cold. They had believed it. At least, Butters hoped.

Gaping, he halted in the middle of the sidewalk, causing Eric to stop too, since he still had his arm.

Eric closed Butters’ jaw. “You’re not helping your case, B-Butts,” he said smugly. He slowly leaned in with his eyes hooded like he was about to kiss him.

Feeling his face go hot, Butters put a hand on Eric’s chest and stepped back. He stuttered, “I-I-I’m—Eric! That man inside saw this!” He gestured wildly to the lewd photo in Eric’s hand.

Eric rolled his eyes. “You’re freaking out over nothing. He probably didn’t know what’s going on in the picture anyway. _You_ didn’t, and you were _there.”_

Butters stammered silently. When he worked words out of his mouth, he blurted, “Why’d you print that?”

Eric’s smirk widened. “I wanted to remember the view I had when I fucked your throat,” he said.

Butters, embarrassed, shoved Eric to the side. “That’s so mean!” he screeched.

Eric was laughing hard. “Oh well,” he said sarcastically.

Butters whined, tugging on Eric’s sleeve. “Eric, you don’t get it. That’s so embarrassing. I’ll never be able to show my face again.”

Eric put his arm around Butters’ shoulders. “If it’s really so bad, we can always skip town.” He looked at Butters. Butters looked at him. The rest of the walk home was in that comfortable silence.

* * *

Butters softly closed his bedroom door. He’d woken in the middle of the night needing to pee, so he had hurried to the bathroom. As he was climbing into bed, his phone on his bedside table buzzed. He wondered who it was as he picked up his phone. It was almost twelve in the morning. He saw he’d gotten a text from Eric.

It was a single message:

Meet me there

Butters’ heart skipped a beat. Though it had been two years since Eric made his promise, Butters still remembered what he’d told him that night. _If you wanna run away, you know where to find me. I’ll meet you there._

Eric wanted to meet there. He wanted to run away.

Butters silently got out of bed again. He searched in the dark for the empty backpack and his shoes under his bed. Once he had his hands on them, he dropped necessities in the backpack: his phone, charger, wallet, spare clothes and underwear. He put on socks and shoved his feet into his shoes. He changed out of his pajamas. He found his coat on the back of his desk chair. He left through the window.

Butters didn’t take his bike. He walked quickly down the sidewalk to the U-Stor-It. With his head down, he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. His hands were cold, and he felt as if he wasn’t retaining enough heat. His cheeks were already beginning to freeze. He wondered why Eric wanted to run away. Their lives had been good so far.

The U-Stor-It was closed, and Butters only had the key to his and Dougie’s unit. He bit his lip, staring up at the fence. He’d have to climb it.

And that’s what he did.

On the other side, Butters made his way through the maze of storage units. When he got to Chaos’s headquarters, nobody was in sight. He spun in a slow circle, searching every shadow for Eric.

“Eric?” he whispered into the darkness.

“Up here.”

Butters jumped at the quiet words that floated down to him from above. He looked up. Eric was lying on his stomach on the roof of the storage unit. Butters watched him make his way down until he stood in front of him. He was close. Their noses were centimeters apart. Eric’s breath plumed into the air, and Butters could feel it on his cheeks. He was comforted by it.

Eric moved slowly. His hands raised to Butters’ face, cupping his cheeks like he might kiss him. Eric’s hands were cold.

Butters allowed himself to glance at Eric’s lips before staring into his eyes. “Why do you wanna run away?” Butters asked.

Eric sighed deeply. The breath he exhaled was visible in the air between them, momentarily clouding Butters’ view of him. He touched their foreheads together. He said, “Because junior year sucks.”

Butters wanted to laugh, but he found that it was stuck in his throat. He rubbed his knuckles together before placing his hands flat on Eric’s chest. His right hand was over Eric’s heart. He thought maybe he was imagining Eric’s heartbeat on his palm.

Eric continued, “It’s so fucking stressful. And I’ve never been this stressed, dude. It’s complete shit.”

Butters nudged their noses together. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Eric nodded.

They jumped the fence of the U-Stor-It so they were on the sidewalk again. Eric adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. “I need to stop by the post office real quick,” he said.

Butters glanced at him. Eric’s hands were in the pocket of his hoodie. Butters slipped his hand in and laced his fingers with Eric’s. Butters said, “But isn’t the post office closed?”

The corner of Eric’s lips lifted. “That matters?” he said.

Butters scoffed a laugh. Of course something like closing hours didn’t matter to Eric. It definitely hadn’t with the U-Stor-It.

Coming up to the post office, Eric put Butters’ hood over his head, then his own. He looked at Butters a certain way. Butters knew that look like the back of his hand. It indicated the beginning of something illegal. A drug-like shot of adrenaline and exhilaration sped through Butters’ veins. He flexed his left fist; his right was intertwined in Eric’s fingers.

They snuck around the back. Eric pulled his lock pick set from his backpack. With the lock undone, they walked into the dark post office on their tiptoes. They were behind the counter, surrounded by bins of letters and packages. Strange shadows formed on the walls and on the floor. The only source of light was the faint blue glow of the two computer monitors still displaying the lockscreens. Of all the places Butters had snuck into with Eric, this one looked the most haunting.

Eric moved first, hopping over the counter and going to the PO boxes on the wall. Butters followed him, keeping close to his shoulder. Eric pulled a key from the pocket of his sweatpants. On its chain was a white tag with the number 18 printed on it. It matched the number embossed on the PO box Eric was inserting the key into.

Butters’ sharp whisper took on an edge of panic. “Whose mailbox is this?”

Eric glanced at him. “My mom’s.” He turned the key and pulled open the little door.

From the angle Butters stood, the inside of the box was completely dark. Eric stuck his hand into it and pulled something out.

Butters jumped, hissing, “Is that a gun?”

Eric held his glock in front of his face. “Yeah.” He said it casually.

“Why do you keep your gun in your mom’s mailbox?”

Eric counted off the reasons on his fingers with the barrel of the gun. “Because she never uses it, and I have the spare key, and I can’t keep a gun in my room, and it’s illegal to possess a gun under twenty-one even though I’ve had this thing since, like, fourth grade, _and_ because if cops were to search my room and find the gun, they would be able to trace all the crimes I’ve committed back to me.” His fingers were splayed with the five reasons.

Butters said nothing.

Eric tucked his glock into the waistband of his gray sweatpants, pulling his hoodie over it so it was concealed. He slung his backpack off his shoulders. He zipped open the biggest pocket and dropped extra magazines into it.

“Why do you need a gun?” Butters asked. He was picturing a car chase with Eric shooting at police cars and Butters behind the wheel trying not to lose his cool.

Eric shrugged. “Emergencies. We’re gonna be off on our own, probably hitchhiking and getting into Ubers late at night. That’s when the creeps show up, you know? It doesn’t help that you have a baby face.”

Butters touched his cheek. He _did_ have a baby face, and he didn’t like it too much. It was often the reason people still believed him innocent and naive. Eric noticed the action, and it made him grin. He kissed Butters’ cheek. It made Butters grin a little too.

They left the post office, leaving everything as they’d found it. On their way out, Butters reminded Eric to lock the door back up.

There was nobody out on Main Street. It felt like a ghost town to Butters. The wind in his ears was biting and loud and cold. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, technically today since it was probably a little bit past twelve. Butters and Eric used to not do much on Valentine’s Day. Two years ago, they would make fun of couples in the school hallways being all mushy and kissy. They’d make faces and gag at them like they weren’t doing the same with each other behind closed doors.

Butters smiled. They were hypocrites.

 _We still are,_ he thought warmly.

To Butters, last year was the first Valentine’s Day that actually felt like the exaggerated, romanticized day it was. They occasionally shared a quick peck in the school hallways when no one was looking. They bought each other the cheapest Valentine grams the school was selling. They walked home and traded cheesy, store-bought cards. They ate heart-shaped chocolates while they did their homework on the living room floor. At night, they huddled up under the covers, liplocking and feeling each other’s hot skin in fleeting touches.

Butters blushed at the memory. He was hoping Valentine’s Day this year would be like the year before—only going a step further since they’d gone a step further with each other during the summertime.

Butters shuddered. Not because of the cold, because of the ghost of Eric’s body pressed against his. But Eric took the shudder as the winter air seeping through Butters’ coat, and he wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close.

Now that they were running away, Butters’ fantasies of the night on Valentine’s Day in Eric’s bed were swept away with the wind.

Butters didn’t ask where they were going, or where Eric planned on running away to. Butters found that he liked it when he let Eric surprise him.

They walked without speaking all the way to the edge of town, where the concrete sidewalk lined by colorful buildings faded into dirt paths surrounded by tall trees. Snow crunched underfoot. Butters looked over his shoulder, watching South Park get further and further away, the lights of the town getting dimmer and dimmer.

“Where’re we goin’?” Butters finally decided to ask, unsettled by the cold trees closing in on them.

Eric’s arm was still around him, warm and secure. He said, “It’s better to leave town this way, so no one on the main road can see us and report us once the police start looking for us.”

Butters’ blood ran colder at the mention of police looking for them. That had happened to him a few times in his childhood, and none of the memories he had of it did he dote on.

It made Butters feel a bit more safe that Eric was following the snow-covered path separating the forest around them. The trees were so dense that leaving the path could have them lost for days.

The dark made it hard to see what exactly was before them, but everything was blanketed in powder white, as if glowing in the moonlight. Snow clung to the leaves of trees. It covered the forest floor. Their soggy shoes, not made for hikes through late-night snow, left footprints behind them. Butters’ feet were frozen. He wished he had put on warmer socks and better shoes if he’d known they’d be going through the forest.

It was quiet too. There were no birds, no bugs, no life except for the whistling wind and the breath fogging the air in front of them.

Butters ran his tongue over his teeth because even they were cold. He craved to sit on the couch in a warm living room, nursing a mug of hot cocoa beneath a fuzzy blanket.

“How do y’know where this trail leads?” he questioned.

Eric replied, “Remember the bike parade in fourth grade? Me, Kyle, and Stan walked up this path to think about how to get the parade canceled. Up a bit further is a bridge.”

“I’ve never been here before,” Butters said. He was trying to make small talk. The quiet of the night was getting to him.

Eric chuckled breathlessly, and it escaped his mouth in a white cloud. “I’ve never been past the bridge, but I know that if we follow the path, we’ll be out of here and onto the less busy parts of the road.”

Eric was right about the bridge, but Butters never doubted he was ever wrong about these kinds of things. They ran the short distance to the bridge, the flashlights on their phones lighting up the rest of the way. It was a stone bridge, suspended over a wide river completely frozen over. Standing on the bridge and peering over the edge, Butters could see the stand-still life beneath the ice. He could see rocks and black mud. The scarce plants appeared white. There were no fish or animal life.

Eric was beside him, and he said, “We’ll stop here for a bit. The road is about a quarter mile more of walking that way.” He pointed ahead of them, to the other side of the bridge where the path continued.

Butters turned, and through the trees, he could see the distant lights of South Park below. It looked so small and toy-sized.

“How far’ve we walked?” Butters locked eyes with Eric.

He shrugged, taking his hands from his pockets to get his legs over the bridge so he could sit on the ledge. His feet dangled over the ice of the river. “Not far. We’ve been walking for seven minutes, so we’re still pretty close to town.”

Butters’ pale blue eyes blew open wide. “We were walkin’ for _seven minutes?_ It didn’t even feel like it. It felt longer than that.”

Eric looked at Butters, and Butters—for the first time that night—noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Eric said, “You’re tired. It’s warped your sense of time.”

Butters was tempted to correct him and tell him that it was him, Eric Theodore Cartman, that warped his sense of time, but the words died on his lips. Instead, he copied Eric, pressing up close to him, and sat on the bridge with his legs over the river.

Butters spent a lot of time observing it, willing the ice to melt and life to return to its waters. It didn’t happen. So he observed Eric instead. The heels of his shoes thumped against the stone of the bridge as his feet slowly swung back and forth. His right pant leg was crumpled up higher than the left, exposing his dark scraggly leg hair. His hands were in his lap in a loose ball. His fingertips were pink from the cold. His head was tilted upwards, towards the sky and the stars scattered like glitter above. The stars reflected on his smudged glasses. Somehow, the starlight passed through the lenses and trickled into his eyes.

Butters realized his left hand was on Eric’s chest, and one of the drawstrings of Eric’s hoodie was twisting between his fingers. He planted a kiss on Eric’s neck and put his head on his shoulder, staring up at the stars with him. They gleamed through the silhouetted leaves of the trees. The stars were brighter out in the forest, away from the eternal lights of the town.

Without taking his eyes off the sky, Eric broke the silence. “Can I hold your hand?”

The corner of Butters’ lips lifted. “If you wanna.”

Eric’s left hand abandoned his lap and drifted to Butters’ hand. He intertwined their cold fingers.

Butters’ words floated against Eric’s neck when he whispered, “Where’re we gonna go?”

Eric said, “Anywhere we want to. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere where no one can find us. And when we get there, we’ll start over. We’ll get jobs and buy a house, but we’ll never go back to school, because fuck that. But we’ll have to change our names first, so no one can find us.”

“I’ll change my last name to yours,” Butters offered.

Eric laughed, and his mouth quirked up in a smile. “That shit’s fucked up.”

Butters pouted, offended by Eric not taking him seriously. “Yeah, it’s fucked up. But I’m fucked up.” He jabbed a finger in Eric’s chest. His hoodie string was still between his fingers. “And so are you. That’s why it’s perfect, and that’s why if I wanna take your last name, that’s okay.”

Eric met Butters’ eyes. He sharpened his smile into a smirk. “I’m surprised you wanna take my last name. Butters Cartman.” He paused, letting the words sink in, feeling how they tasted and hearing how they sounded. He chuckled and shook his head. “Sounds stupid as shit.”

Butters stuck his bottom lip out further. He thumped Eric’s chest with the heel of his palm in defiance. “Hey, that’s mean. I… I—I kinda like it. And I’m takin’ _your_ last name ‘cause God knows you wouldn’t want _mine.”_

Eric, still smirking, scoffed. “What makes you assume that?”

Butters bit his lip. He mumbled, “ ‘Cause you don’t wanna share nothin’ with my parents, and if you took my last name, you’d share that with ‘em.”

Eric huffed. “That’s not true. I share _you_ with your parents.”

Butters sighed deeply, slumping into Eric. “Aw, Eric. The second my parents stopped carin’ for me, I was all yours. Only yours.”

Eric went silent. His voice lost its edge when he spoke again, “Doesn’t matter. You can’t do that anyway. It’ll give us away if someone comes looking for us.”

Following that, he dropped Butters’ hand. He rubbed his neck, looking off, away from Butters. Butters felt as if he’d touched upon something he shouldn’t have. He moved his hand to his lap. His left hand drifted up to his face, and he put Eric’s hoodie string in his mouth and chewed on the knotted end.

Butters couldn’t remember when he developed the habit of chewing Eric’s strings. One day, he realized he was doing it, and he couldn’t stop.

Butters longed for the chirp of crickets. He longed for the warmth of a bed. Most of all, he longed to be hidden away in Eric’s room, cradled in his arms.

Like usual when he was with Eric, Butters lost his perception of time. He had no idea how long they were sitting there. It could have been five minutes, it could have been four hours.

Eric was on his phone. There was little signal out there, barricaded by tall trees. His Instagram feed was gray with empty circles. In the corner of his screen, the time was displayed. 12:42 in the morning.

Eric broke the silence by saying, “We should keep going.”

They continued on past the bridge. Butters kept close to Eric, clinging to his hand. Butters’ fingers were frozen. So were Eric’s. It was getting colder as they trudged deeper into the shadows of the trees around them, but Butters wasn’t scared. He was never scared as long as he had Eric.

It was sooner than Butters expected when they emerged from the trees. Like Eric predicted, they were walking alongside an empty road that stretched on past the horizon. The snow was still fresh, covering the black tar of the road in a fine layer of white.

They walked for an hour. Few words were traded. They were exhausted from walking, the cold, and the lack of sleep. They were hungry too. Butters felt like his stomach was trying to eat itself, and he could hear the times Eric’s stomach grumbled.

Butters was staring at his shoes as they walked, watching the snow slide off and fall to the ground.

Suddenly, Eric’s fingers around Butters’ tightened. “A gas station,” Eric breathed.

Butters looked up. In the distance, a lone gas station lit up the darkness with neon green. Butters’ stomach rumbled at the sight of it. Gas stations always had snacks in the convenience store.

Eric tugged on Butters’ hand, urging him to walk faster.

The two ran across the road to the gas station. There were only two cars sitting empty in the lot. One was parked in front of the store. The other was being filled with gas. Nobody but Eric and Butters were outside in the cold.

They went into the store, relaxing when they walked into the heat. They gravitated to the candy aisle, picking only one candy bar each. Their wet shoes squeaked on the linoleum. The freezers in the back buzzed. Soft music played from speakers above. Almost as if the two other strangers didn’t exist.

Eric leaned to Butters’ ear and whispered, “I have an idea. Just keep your head down. Watch out for cameras.”

Butters swallowed nervously but nodded. Eric was going to do something. Something bad. At the register was a man in his late twenties blasting music from his headphones. It was so loud that Butters could hear the foreign words of the song he was listening to.

Eric put his candy on the counter. Butters did too. He noticed Eric was going to buy two pairs of black gloves.

The cashier started to scan their things.

Eric said to Butters, “I’m gonna get some sodas.” He handed Butters his debit card.

Butters gnawed on his lip watching Eric go to the humming vending machine. He hung his head as he punched in the numbers for a bottle of Sprite and Dr Pepper. Butters noticed there was a security camera above the vending machine.

He turned away from the camera’s view so it wouldn’t catch his face. Near the door, a middle-aged man leafed through the magazine rack. He found one and started to turn towards the register. Butters looked forward. The cashier was ringing up the gloves. Butters felt the middle-aged man’s presence standing behind him.

Butters put Eric’s card into the reader. He pressed in Eric’s pin: 0701. His birthday.

The machine started beeping. Butters nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled to the right. It was just Eric smirking at him.

Butters quietly exhaled in relief. Eric kissed his forehead and took his card back. He swept all their stuff into his backpack. He picked up Butters’ hand and led them out of the mini mart.

Instead of continuing down the road, Eric hid them around the corner of the store. He murmured to Butters, “Did you see that man? The old one?”

“Yeah,” Butters said.

“We’re gonna take his car. It’s the one getting filled. But to do that, I need you to distract him. When he comes out, talk to him. Tell him we’re lost and wanna find the nearest motel. I’ll sneak up behind him and knock him out. Okay?”

Butters nodded. He realized he was quivering. Eric saw it too, and he wrapped him in his arms. He didn’t let go until the man left the convenience store.

“Keep cool, B-Butts,” Eric whispered. There was an unshakable intensity in his eyes.

Butters took a deep breath before leaving his hiding place with Eric. He approached the man. He was taking the pump from the car and paying for the gas.

Butters went around the pump so the man’s back would be facing Eric when Butters spoke to him.

“Excuse me,” Butters said.

The man looked up. Butters’ heartbeat quickened. The man’s eyes were dim and sad, surrounded by wrinkles of age. It occurred to Butters that the man was here at this gas station in the middle of nowhere alone, with no friends and no family. The dark inside of the car was lifeless.

Keeping the warble out of his voice, Butters continued, “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know where the nearest motel is? My boyfriend and I are lost, and our phones are dead so we can’t use Google Maps to find our way.”

The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, it’s all right. I understand.” He started telling Butters the directions to a motel closest by. Butters nodded along, memorizing everything the man said.

Though Butters was focusing on the man, he saw Eric’s figure come into view. He was creeping up behind the man silently like a phantom. With each step Eric took, Butters’ heartbeat grew louder and faster in his ears. When the butt of Eric’s gun cracked across the left side of the man’s skull, cutting him off mid sentence, Butters didn’t flinch. The man crumpled to the ground.

All Butters could hear was the whistle of February wind blowing through the empty gas station.

Eric returned his gun to the waistband of his sweatpants. He lifted the man’s arms, Butters his legs. They carried his body over to a bare tree half buried in snow. They dropped the body behind the trunk so it was concealed from the view of the mini mart and the road. There was nothing but land where the man’s body was pointing.

Eric crouched and searched the man for his car keys. He found them in the right pocket of the man’s coat. He handed them to Butters. Eric stood up.

Butters whispered, “What’re we gonna do with the body? When he wakes up, he’ll tell, and then we’ll have the police lookin’ for us.”

Eric cradled Butters’ chin in one hand. Butters felt his worries calm despite the unconscious body at their feet. “We can’t worry about that right now. We have to leave. If we’re out of here before he wakes up, the cops will have a harder time tracking us.”

Eric was about to lean in to kiss Butters in assurance, and Butters was craving it, but then the man began to stir. Eric moved fast. He pushed Butters behind him and had his glock against the man’s forehead in one second. When the man came to be, for a moment, he looked afraid.

“Don’t move. I don’t want to kill you,” Eric said darkly, “but I will if I have to. So you better keep your fucking mouth shut.”

The man said nothing. His dim eyes drifted to Butters. Guilt weighed his heart. This man had thought he was harmless. He looked back at Eric. “I won’t call for anyone. I promise. I don’t care whether you kill me or not. I have nothing more to live for. So if you’re going to kill me, do it.”

Eric moved his finger the trigger. He scowled. His lack of hesitance terrified Butters.

The man’s voice shook. “I-I’ll make it look like a suicide, even. I’ll shoot myself, and you can be on your way.”

Eric’s laugh was a harsh bark. “I’m not stupid,” he growled. He forced the man’s head against the tree trunk with the gun.

“Please,” the man begged. The sadness in his eyes grew sadder. “I have no family. No one would notice me gone. Please, let me die. I’m unhappy in this world anyway. Why do you think I go to gas stations in the middle of nowhere on my own? I have nothing to live for.”

Butters put his hand on Eric’s hip. “Give the gun to him,” he whispered into Eric’s ear. His voice was shaking.

Eric quickly glanced at Butters in horror. “He’ll use it on us!”

“No. No, he won’t,” Butters insisted. He gripped Eric’s hoodie. Even softer, he mumbled, “I’ve seen that look on so many people. Just let him be put outta his misery.”

Butters could feel Eric’s hesitance like it was a third person standing above the man with them. Eric slowly handed the gun over. Right before the man could touch it, Eric jerked back a little. He narrowed his eyes at him. “If you try something, I’ll rip your eyes from their fucking sockets and shove them down your throat and throttle you death,” he warned.

The man gulped but nodded. “I-I swear. If I wanted to try something on you two, I would’ve done it already.”

Eric grabbed the man’s wrist and put the glock in his palm. The man struggled to sit up straighter against the tree trunk. He winced as he moved. Thick red blood leaked from the side of his head into his ear.

Where the wound was, the man put Eric’s gun to his temple. The safety was already off. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

The man’s shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes. His face relaxed, smoothing out all the wrinkles. It made him look years younger. Though Butters didn’t know this man, he could tell this was the happiest he had been in a long, long time.

Butters wrapped his arms around Eric’s middle, turning his face into his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to watch the man put a bullet through his skull. Butters had seen too much of that in his lifetime. He didn’t want to see it any more than he had to. Seeing it over and over didn’t make it easier.

When the shot rang through the air, Butters caught his breath, and he felt Eric’s stomach still its steady rhythm too. Not even Eric, who had fired that gun at people himself, could watch without remorse as a man killed himself.

All in the world was still. Neither boy breathed. Even the wind had stopped blowing like the Earth was holding its breath too.

Butters extracted himself from Eric. The man was slumped over. The gun was loose in his dead grip. Around his head was a crown of red that stained the pure white snow.

Butters didn’t know the man’s name, but maybe for the better. If he knew his name, the knowledge that he had let a man die would make him want to turn himself in.

Eric took back his gun. He hid it in his waistband. “Let’s go,” he whispered. Eric’s hand was trembling when Butters took it.

At the man’s car, Eric put his backpack on the trunk to rifle through it. He took out the two pairs of gloves, ripping off the tags and dropping them to the concrete. He handed a pair one size smaller to Butters.

“Put these on before touching anything in the car. Fingerprints are bad.”

 _Especially when the cops start looking for us,_ were Eric’s unspoken words that hung in the air between them.

Butters put on the gloves. The insides were fuzzy and warm.

In the car, Eric turned on the engine and blasted the heater. He drove away from the gas station and the dead man’s body hidden in the snow behind a bare tree.

“Can you pull up that motel that guy was talking about on Google Maps?” Eric said. He spoke softly.

Butters found the motel and turned up his phone’s volume so the directions could be read aloud. The motel was forty minutes away.

The drive was quiet. Eric and Butters ate their candy and drank their soda. Eric kept his eyes on the road. Butters kept staring out at the desolate world passing by. It seemed that they were the only two people on Earth. And they’d killed the only survivor who wasn’t them.

“That man… right before he pulled the trigger,” Butters said, “he seemed happy to know he would finally be dead.”

“I—I…” Eric sighed. Butters faced him. He was furrowing his eyebrows at the road ahead. “Then I guess he died happy. Which is a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Butters agreed.

Eric took his right hand off the wheel and placed it in Butters’ hand. “Try not to think about it too much,” he said.

“I’ll try.” Butters knew that for today at least, the image would replay over and over in his mind.

By the time Eric parked the car in front of the registration building of the motel, Butters was almost asleep. Eric turned off the engine, and it quieted to silence. Through the blinds of the registration building, the lights were on. They got out of the car and went in.

Eric approached the counter to get them a room.

Meanwhile, Butters surveyed where they stood, afraid that this motel lobby would be the last thing he would see before staring at metal bars for the rest of his life. The floors were hardwood and brown that creaked with each step. An indoor plant was pushed up against the corner of the room, next to the window. Across from the check-in counter was a little market. The walls were freezers of frozen foods and shelves of bread and cereals. There was a vending machine and an ice machine next to each other.

“Butters,” Eric said to get his attention.

Though his voice was calm and tired, fear still shot through Butters. He scurried to Eric, keeping his arms around his torso.

Their room, 96, was on the upper level of the building next to registration. The car was further away, but Eric said that was good. In case the cops came looking, they would automatically assume the room in front of the stolen car would be where the culprits resided.

Though they kept the lights off, Butters knew the room was nicer than he’d expected. As his eyes adjusted, he took note of the richness of color in the carpet floors. He touched the wall. It was smooth—freshly painted. The bed was spotless. The whole room smelled new.

The alarm clock on the nightstand glowed blue. 2:26 a.m.

Butters kicked off his shoes and draped his jacket over the desk chair. He crawled into bed and sighed in relief at how he sunk into the soft pillows. He thought he’d be spending the rest of his life sleeping in the back seat of a stolen car.

Eric stood at Butters’ side of the bed. Their eyes were on each other. Eric said, “That lady thought we would need a room with two twins at first. But then I told her one queen was fine, and she didn’t say or do anything for a moment.”

Butters giggled without humor. “I wonder what she was thinkin’.”

Eric watched him intently. He reached out to brush Butters’ hair from his forehead.

His eyes were just starting to droop, but then Eric said, “I think I’m gonna go back to the lobby and buy some—”

“No!” Butters shot up and grabbed Eric’s wrist. The pale blue of his eyes were wide with fear. “No. Don’t go out anymore. Just stay here. Don’t go out,” he begged.

Eric slid his wrist from Butters’ grip. He put his lips to his forehead. “Okay. I won’t.”

Butters laid down. He didn’t close his eyes until Eric was in bed at his back. He felt Eric’s arm twist around him protectively. Butters let out a breath and fell asleep.

He woke up to darkness. As his senses returned, he felt the emptiness at his back. He sat up. Displayed on the alarm clock was 2:49 a.m. Butters looked around the room. Eric wasn’t there. The bathroom door was open and within was dark. Not a sound but Butters’ increasing breathing occupied room 96.

Butters was about to throw off the blankets and run screaming for Eric. That’s when the door opened and Eric came in, carrying a plastic grocery bag.

“Where’d you go?” Butters blurted.

Eric looked up from closing the door, startled. “To get food,” he answered. He lifted the bag for Butters to see.

“I told you not to leave,” Butters hissed. He was shaking, and Eric noticed. Then he was on the bed, cradling Butters. Butters had tears in his eyes. His face was buried in Eric’s hoodie. “I thought for a moment they’d taken you. I thought the police’d come.” He looked up, glaring at Eric. “And that coulda happened too, y’know!”

Eric brushed his thumb over Butters’ cheek. “But it didn’t. I know what I’m doing, Butters.”

Butters wiped his face and sat up straight to look Eric in the eye. “I can’t believe you waited till I was asleep to leave.” His voice was strained with betrayal.

“I didn’t expect you to wake up.” The corner of Eric’s mouth lifted slightly. “And if I’d been a little faster I would’ve been back before you could realize I was gone at all.”

Butters gave Eric’s shoulder a shove. “Not funny,” he said.

Eric kissed Butters’ lips. “We didn’t pinkie promise, so technically, I didn’t _have_ to stay in bed,” he pointed out.

“It was implied,” Butters snapped.

Eric smiled in that certain way he did for only Butters. He lifted the plastic bag onto his lap and pulled out what was inside. “The candy wasn’t enough, so I bought us some frozen pizzas and water.”

“Oh,” Butters said. He took a bottle from Eric and drank it down until it was almost empty. He’d woken up with a dry mouth.

Eric got up from the bed to heat the pizzas in the microwave on top of the minifridge. They ate side by side, facing the single window of the motel. The blinds were closed, but they kept watch for the flashing blue and red lights that never came.

Once the pizzas and water bottles were gone, they climbed back under the covers. As soon as their heads hit the pillows, they were out cold.

When Butters awoke again for the third time that night, Eric was still sleeping next to him, breathing deeply. Butters had had a dream of seeing the man take up the gun and put it to his head, hearing the sound of it going off. Except when Butters looked down, the gun was in his hands. It was heavy and burning into his skin. When Butters looked back at the man, he melted into the snow without a trace.

Butters sat up. On the nightstand at Eric’s side of the bed, Butters read the time: 3:23 a.m.

Staring at the blue numbers brought endless exhaustion crashing into him. Along with it, a wave of yearning hit him. So vividly, he could see himself pressed into Eric’s bed having his neck kissed, relishing the way Eric whispered _Mine_ between breaths. He could feel pressure on his chest, warmth on his lips, Eric’s hand in his pinned above his head. It was Valentine’s Day.

Butters felt homesick suddenly. The pressure on his chest was getting heavier, and he realized it wasn’t lust. It was overwhelming sadness. He didn’t want to run away any further than they’d gone. He wasn’t ready to leave the town he grew up in. He wasn’t ready to abandon all the memories he made in South Park. He wasn’t ready to stop waking up to find that he was tangled up with Eric in bed, wearing nothing but their boxers. Not yet. That’s what the summer after senior year was for.

Butters wanted to go home.

But he kept that within.

Breaking the quiet of the motel room, Eric’s voice spoke into the darkness, “Can’t sleep?”

Butters turned to him. He was staring up at him, concern set deep in his eyes. Butters messed with the hem of Eric’s T-shirt. “Yeah,” he admitted.

Eric sat up too, situating himself behind Butters so his chest was against Butters’ back. He put his lips to Butters’ neck. He sat there for a second, doing nothing. But then he took up Butters’ hand, squeezing tightly—reassuringly. Eric murmured, “Let’s go home.”

Relief was like walking into a cool room after being out in the sweltering sun all day. Tension left Butters’ shoulders, tension he didn’t know he held.

“B-but what about runnin’ away?” he asked. He had to. Why was Eric having such an abrupt change of heart?

Eric shrugged. “I mean, I _guess_ I can try to get through junior year. There’s only, like, four months of school left.” He took in a breath sharply through his teeth. “And I heard senior year’s easy. So…” He shrugged again. “Might as well suck it up until then, right? Can’t pussy out now.”

It was unspoken, but they had watched a man kill himself. They weren’t ready for the outside world.

Butters’ face split into a smile. “That’s right,” he agreed.

They gathered all their things, making sure they didn’t leave behind anything that could give them away. Eric left the key card on the dresser. They walked through the frigid winter air to the stolen car.

It was 4:55 when they arrived at Butters’ house after abandoning the car on the outskirts of South Park. They walked the rest of the way, and they held hands the whole time. Eric followed Butters home even though it was out of the way for him. They stood on the roof of the garage, under the window to Butters’ room.

Butters put his arms around Eric’s shoulders, pulling him close. Their noses touched. “Why doncha just stay the night here? I m-mean, we only have less than five hours till school starts,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Eric asked. He probably had Butters’ parents in mind.

Butters nodded. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m sure.”

Eric helped Butters get into his room, and Butters pulled Eric up once he was within the walls. Butters’ room was warm, and the cold fell off him instantly.

Eric sighed heavily in relief. “I’m so glad today’s a late start day.”

Butters smiled. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but he felt he had the energy to take on the world. After everything he and Eric had gone through within six hours, he knew they could.

Butters sat on his bed in a T-shirt and PJ pants, watching Eric undress. Even though Eric had a few pajamas at the back of Butters’ dresser, he kept his sweatpants on but took off his hoodie and his shirt. He dropped them on the floor, and when he turned, Butters saw the handle of Eric’s gun sticking out of the waistband of his pants.

Butters reached over to remove Eric of the gun. The darkness hid his blush as his hand neared Eric’s hips. He held the gun in his hand, feeling the weight and the warmth lingering on the handle from the prolonged contact with Eric’s skin. It didn’t burn like it had in the dream.

Butters’ gaze was fixed on the gun. Events of the night flashed through his mind.

Without taking his eyes off Butters, Eric took the gun and set it on the nightstand. He put a knee on the bed—right between Butters’ legs—and his hands were gripping Butters’ shoulders. Butters’ breath caught as Eric’s face neared his. Butters was being lowered onto his back. That dim hope of Valentine’s Day once night hit was revived, but he corrected the fantasy to Valentine’s Day in the _early morning._

Getting a few hours of sleep before school started was suddenly invalid and unimportant.

His head was on his pillows, and Eric was above him. Butters’ heart was thudding in a steady rhythm. He could feel his own pulse.

And then that dark look in Eric’s eyes glinted, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He pressed a firm kiss to Butters’ lips. He rolled off, laid at Butters side, pulled Butters flush against him, and brought the thick blankets over their shoulders.

It hit Butters that he’d just been toyed with.

A few hours later, Butters woke to silence. Fear shot through him, and he sat up abruptly. He stuck his hand under his pillow and grabbed his phone. When he checked the time, it was 8:57. Butters sighed in relief, slumping over. School started at ten. They still had plenty of time.

At his side, Eric groaned, “What time is it?”

Butters dropped to his elbow, brushing Eric’s hair from his face. “Eight fifty-seven.”

Their noses hovered less than an inch apart, and Butters could feel Eric’s lips brush his when he spoke. “Let’s skip today.”

Butters smiled and scoffed, getting out of bed. “First you wanted to run away, now you wanna skip? You can’t have both.”

Eric groaned again, louder this time. “Fuuuuck.”

He was out of bed and dressed at precisely nine o’clock. His hair was messy and unbrushed, his eyes were half open, and he wore an early morning pout. Butters squeezed Eric’s cheeks with one hand. He wrinkled his nose and grinned at Eric’s puckered lips.

Eric’s words were garbled when he drawled, “I need to go home and get my shit… and stuff.”

Eric got ditzy when he slept less than seven hours at night. Butters rose to his tiptoes to give Eric a peck on the mouth.

They walked to Eric’s. Eric leaned half his bodyweight on Butters.

Butters waited by Eric’s car as he trudged up the stairs of his home to get the things he needed for school. Eric came down, dragging his feet and his backpack.

In the driver’s seat of the car, Eric squinted at the garage door through the windshield. Butters giggled, pushing Eric’s glasses onto his nose.

“Oh, right,” Eric said. He sighed heavily. “I forgot I’m blind.” He threw an arm around the back of Butters’ seat and turned so he could back out of the driveway.

They arrived at school with seven minutes to waste. They would’ve had more time if they hadn’t stopped by Tweek Bros for breakfast, but they woke up starving. They lingered at Eric’s locker. It had become the unofficial meeting spot for the mornings since the beginning of the year.

Butters’ neck was in Eric’s left hand, and his head was tilted that way too. He stared at the black cap between Eric’s straight white teeth. The marker was in Eric’s right hand, and the tip of that marker was dancing across the side of Butters’ neck.

“What’re you writing?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” Eric promised around the cap of the Sharpie.

“It better not be anything inappropriate. I have History, and you know how Mr. O can get,” Butters warned.

“It’s not inappropriate.”

Eric pulled back, capped the pen, took his phone from the bottom of his open locker, and snapped a picture of Butters’ neck. He showed him the picture. On the side of his neck, Eric had written _Property of E. Cartman_ in Sharpie.

Eric shot Butters a shit-eating grin, sticking his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Happy V-Day, B-Butts,” he said. He leaned over and shortly kissed Butters’ gaping mouth.

At that moment, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny with his arm around Henrietta’s waist walked up to Butters and Eric.

Kenny laughed out loud upon seeing Eric’s message on Butters’ neck.

Butters glared at Kenny, then whined to Eric, “It’s gonna take forever to wash off.”

Henrietta momentarily looked up from her phone. Her eyes landed on Butters’ neck. “You should get that tattooed on you.” The way her lips lifted in a teasing smile was surprising to Butters.

Eric said, “And look, when I do this…” He loosely wrapped his hand around Butters’ neck. “You can still see it.”

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny took notice of the way the writing was perfectly situated under Eric’s thumb, easy to see.

“Really, though?” Stan said, grinning. “The choke?” His eyes flickered from Eric’s hand to Eric’s face.

Eric mirrored his grin and shrugged. When he kissed Butters this time, it was heavy, and the hand around his neck tightened in the slightest way.

The way Butters’ friends stared at him once the kiss was broken made him want to sink to the floor and turn invisible.

Butters silently thanked Kyle when he glossed over the topic and started a new one. “I had the worst sleep last night.” He dragged his hand down his face, as if to emphasize the shadows under his eyes.

Stan nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

Butters saw the smirk Eric directed at Kyle. “Why, Kyle?” he taunted. “Is it because you didn’t have Heidi to warm your bed like she usually does?”

Kyle pinned Eric with a deadly glare. “Says you. You literally just wrote your name on Butters and put your hand around his neck.”

“So? I didn’t eat his pussy like you did with Heidi,” Eric fired back.

Color crept up Kyle’s neck. “Keep my girlfriend’s name out your mouth, Cartman,” he warned through gritted teeth.

Stan pointed out, “Yet you didn’t disagree.”

Kyle stared bug-eyed at Stan. “Stan!” he barked.

Stan shrugged, nonchalant.

Kenny shot them all puzzled looks. “I slept great last night.”

Eric rolled his eyes in a playful way. “Yeah, I’m sure you did, Kenny.”

“I dreamt and everything. Best sleep I’ve had all week,” Kenny said.

Stan grumbled, “We don’t doubt that.”

All of the boys except Kenny looked at Henrietta.

She said nothing. Instead, she bit her bottom lip around a smirk. Her fingers were adorned with silver rings, and those fingers slid up Kenny’s shirt, dragging the hem up too. Kenny’s lean midriff was exposed. His face grew into a slow, easy grin.

Everyone traded knowing looks. They all knew why Kenny slept so well last night.

Stan nudged Butters in the side with his elbow. “How’d you sleep?”

Butters’ eyes darted to Eric. Eric’s face was schooled into impassiveness.

Their friends snickered, assuming the look meant something more dirty than it was. Neither Eric nor Butters said anything to correct them, even as Butters was transported back to only a few hours previous. He could see the man lying in the snow with red all around him.

Eric said, “We hardly got any sleep last night.”

“Yeah. Only a few hours,” Butters agreed, looking down at his shoes.

Both had dark purple circles under their eyes.

Stan snorted, “Teenagers and Valentine’s Day shouldn’t be allowed to mix.”

Eric put in, “Just because Wendy’s a prude doesn’t mean you have to talk like you’re above sex.”

Stan sputtered, “She’s not a prude!”

Kyle said, “She kinda is, dude.”

Stan looked to Kenny—and maybe even Henrietta—for consolation, but it was hopeless. They were too busy making out against the lockers to notice Stan’s desperation for help. Henrietta had her hands up Kenny’s shirt and Kenny’s knee was separating her thighs.

Kyle scratched the side of his nose where his piercing was. Stan looked down the hallway. Eric was on his phone. Butters grabbed Eric’s hoodie string and stuck it between his teeth. Eric glanced up and stared at him. Butters stared back.

Eric pocketed his phone and put his arms around Butters instead. Butters gratefully leaned into the embrace. Home was always between Eric’s arms. He felt warm and secure there, the way he did when they were walking to the stone bridge.

Overhead, the warning bell rang. Kyle glanced at each of them. “Gotta go to Trig. See you at lunch,” he said. He spun on his heel and chucked a deuce at them over his shoulder.

He broke off from the group. Even though Stan had English, he followed Kyle. His English classroom was a longer walk from the math wing than it would be from where they stood at Eric’s locker, but Stan walked with Kyle to third period every Wednesday. Stan claimed it was because Wendy also had Trig Honors third period and he met up with her there. That was true, but Butters believed Stan walked with Kyle because he wanted to have time to talk with him alone.

Butters poked Kenny in the shoulder. He was still all over Henrietta. He probably hadn’t heard the bell. Kenny broke away from her, looking at Butters as if he was dragged out of heaven, which Butters guessed he was, in a way.

Butters said to him around Eric’s drawstring still between his teeth, “The bell rang.”

“It did?” Kenny said. He pulled away from Henrietta, but he kept both his hands in hers.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Eric drawled with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh.”

Kenny and Henrietta led Butters and Eric away from the lockers and toward their third periods. Butters and Eric hung back from the couple ahead of them so they could trade a glance. Butters could feel the same thought pass through their minds: _Keep what happened last night between only us._ Eric squeezed Butters’ hand.


	2. V-Day

During the final minutes of the last period of the day, two kids from ASB entered the AP Language classroom. One was holding a box filled with trinkets, and the other held a piece of paper. They went up to Butters’ teacher and spoke to her in low murmurs. The teacher nodded. She announced to the class, “Valentine grams are being handed out, but try to stay focused on your work.”

Despite what the teacher had instructed, Butters found he couldn’t stay focused on his work. It was unfortunate too, because he was almost finished with it.

The ASB members set the box down on a vacant desk near the door. One girl was calling kids up by alphabetical order of last names. The other girl was handing the kids their Valentine grams.

Eventually, Butters’ name was called. He stood from his desk and walked to the ASB girls, expecting to be handed a pair of fuzzy heart socks. Instead, he was handed a small teddy bear that was holding a red heart to its furry chest. Butters was confused and about to tell the girl who handed it to him that she gave him the wrong one, but when he checked the small card tied around the bear’s neck, he saw that it was to him, from Eric.

Bemused, Butters drifted back to his seat. He set the bear on his desk, cupping both hands around it. It was small, the size of his hand. It was smiling with a tilted head. It was in a sitting position, and the heart was as big as its body. Butters slipped off the tiny card from around the bear’s neck. It was wearing a bow tie the same shade of red as the heart.

Butters stared at the front of the card, disbelieving. It was pink cardstock. In the printed heart were two lines. One said _To,_ the other said _From._ His name was written in Eric’s handwriting on the _To_ line. Eric’s name was on the _From_ line. Butters turned over the card. His fifth period was written there, the class, classroom number, teacher, and grade.

Inside the card was a short message: _Happy Valentine’s Day. There’s not enough space on this thing for more than that._

The last four words got progressively smaller and squished together.

Butters quirked a smile. Reading Eric’s handwriting caused him to touch the words in Sharpie on his neck. Plenty of his classmates had made comments about it throughout the day.

Yet Butters was still confused. He wasn’t confused by getting a Valentine gram from Eric. What made him confused was the bear. Last year, he and Eric got each other the cheapest gram the school sold, and that was the plan for this year too. The cheapest item was the fuzzy, one-size heart socks. Butters was there with Eric at the table ASB had set up when they’d bought their grams for each other. They stood side by side when writing their messages. Butters didn’t understand how he was holding the small white bear.

He’d seen the prices for the grams taped to the table. The bear was the second most expensive thing next to the larger bear that came with a rose and a box of candy hearts. He felt bad. He’d gotten Eric the cheapest gram being sold, and Eric had spent seven dollars on a pocket-sized bear.

The last bell of the day snapped Butters out of it. His classmates were already packed up and heading for the door. Scrambling, Butters slid his worksheets into his binder and dropped his binder in his backpack. He hastily zipped it up.

Butters was the last to leave the classroom, so he bid his teacher goodbye and happy Valentine’s Day.

He hurried to his locker. That’s where he and Eric met up when school ended so they could walk to Eric’s car together.

Eric was already at Butters’ locker and was leaning against it. Butters soundlessly approached over the chaos of students rushing out of the school doors. Eric had his head down, one hand in the pocket of his Adidas hoodie, the other holding his phone. When Butters stood with the toes of their shoes only a centimeter apart, Eric looked up. Butters watched Eric’s pupils dilate as he took Butters in, the black consuming the brown and blue-flecked violet.

Butters held up the bear and said, “I got your gram.” Eric glanced down at the bear. “It wasn’t the cheapest thing like we said.”

Eric’s eyes glinted, and the corner of his lips lifted. “I know.”

Butters slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you somethin’ more than just socks.”

Eric shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you about the bear for a reason.”

Butters bit his lip, still feeling guilty. Leisurely, Eric put his hand over his Sharpie message on Butters’ skin and bent his neck towards Butters until the space between them was nonexistent.

Butters found he couldn’t immediately open his eyes after the kiss was broken. When he finally did, though, Eric was smirking. He jerked his head to the side. “Let’s go.”

Butters’ hand was in Eric’s as he was led across the street to Eric’s car.

Love songs pulsed through the radio on the drive to the nearest store. Eric found a parking spot right up front. They got out of the car and walked in. They headed straight for the cards aisle, and they avoided each other as they picked out their cards.

Butters found a simple white card with crying Pepe the Frog on the front. Inside the card in Comic Sans font, it read, _You meme so much to me._

It was perfect for Eric.

After finding cards, they met up in the candy aisle. Eric scooped up as much as his arms could carry. Butters laughed at the way half of Eric’s face was concealed by bags of candy.

“That’s a lot,” Butters observed.

“It’s fine. I have money now that I work. _And_ this is enough to last us until March… at least,” Eric said. He turned and walked to the front of the store. Butters followed.

They checked out separately so they wouldn’t see each other’s cards.

Eric went into the car, and Butters sat on the curb in front of the store so they could write their cards in private.

The words came to Butters easily.

_I wish I could’ve gotten you more than socks. I know it doesn’t matter to you, and it’s not that I'm worried about how you spent more on me. It’s just that I want you to know I love you, and giving you socks is a pretty lousy way to do it. I want you to know how you make me feel, but I don’t know how to put that into words. I can only express it through actions, and sometimes, not even that conveys the message enough. I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if it meant letting you know how much you mean to me. I’d do anything for you. I’d kill a man for you. I’d let you kill a man for me. I’d let a man kill himself if it meant we could always be together. I’d run away with you. I’d run away again if you asked me to. And it doesn’t matter where we go, because my home is you. I’ve never felt as safe and secure as I am when I’m with you, which may seem odd considering our past. Even still, I look back on those memories and smile as I cringe. All I know is I want to be around you and spend time with you, even though you make me forget time exists. Happy Valentine’s Day._

Butters signed off with a cloud of hearts and an _I love you._ He stuffed the card into the envelope and texted Eric that he was finished. A minute later, Eric gave him the OK to return to the car so they could go home.

Last year, they read their cards on the walk home from the bus stop. Since Eric drove now, they had to wait until they were sitting on Eric’s living room floor with their Valentine candies scattered on top of their homework laid out on the coffee table to open their cards.

Butters broke the seal of his envelope the same time Eric broke his. When Butters pulled out the card, he laughed in shock. In cursive letters, Butters read _To my favorite dumbass bitch._ Butters looked up at Eric. Eric wasn’t reading his card. He was watching Butters instead.

Butters dropped his jaw, feigning offence. He whacked Eric’s shoulder. “Meanie!” he exclaimed.

Eric grinned wide. “Read the inside.”

Butters shot him a playful side-eye glare before opening the card. _Valentine’s Day is still stupid as shit, but it’s not as bad now that I have you. And it doesn’t make me as bitter as it did seeing couples swapping spit in the hallways because I know I have you to swap spit with. Your spit tastes good btw. Also, in case you were unaware, you’re the only person I don’t hate. I mean, it might even be love. Haha jk… unless? No but for real, I love you so much it’s fucking disgusting. Like, hella nasty disgusting where I can’t stop thinking about your weird face when I’m taking a test or something. Oh yeah and about the card, I grabbed the first one I saw, but it’s cool because it’s true. But before I get my ass kicked, just know I love you, even if you are kind of stupid. I bet your card is going to be a lot cheesier than this. I’m not good at feelings because I’m not a mushy bitch like you. IFLY. (I fucking love you.)_

Butters put the card on the coffee table, laughing. He wrapped his arms around Eric. “I love you too.”

“I know,” Eric said sheepishly. “I read your card.”

They kept their cards at their sides as they did their homework and ate the abundance of candies on the table. Eric distracted Butters from his homework by getting him to toss chocolates into Eric’s mouth. Butters put a piece of licorice between his teeth and Eric bit off the other half _Lady and the Tramp_ style.

Butters was finishing his AP Lang worksheet when he scratched his neck. He remembered Eric’s written words on his skin. He remembered Eric’s hand around his throat and the way he kissed him against the lockers.

Butters blushed.

His persistent fantasies of Valentine’s Day night came back to him. He winced and bit his lip. Embarrassed and hesitant, he pushed out, “Uh, Eric?” Eric gave him his attention, moving the lollipop in his mouth to the other side. Butters avoided his eye. “Um… I—I got somethin’ to admit.”

Eric’s brows flickered. “Okay.”

Butters pressed his knuckles together. “W-well… I got this thing. L-like a dilemma. I, uhhh.” The expectant look Eric was giving him made him fidget. Butters sucked a breath in and blurted, “Last night and this mornin’ and now, I’ve been needin’ you to—to—” Butters couldn’t find the right words.

He didn’t need to.

Eric got the gist of it, and it made him smirk in his devilish way that had Butters’ heart skipping beats. Eric’s pencil waved erratically back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh so you’re trying to fuck? And you’ve been _trying_ to fuck since last night?”

Butters sat still, unable to nod or make a noise of agreement.

The edge was taken off Eric’s smirk. He casually stated, “You’ll get what you want. I promise.” He took the lollipop from his mouth and brought Butters in close to kiss him. Butters could taste the flavored sugar on Eric’s tongue. Then Eric pulled away and returned to his Algebra 2 homework. He asked, “When you’re done, can you help me with this word problem? I don’t get it.”

Butters was stunned to frozen silence. He stared at Eric, unblinking. Eric caught his eye. The air was still for a heartbeat. At the same time, they exploded into laughter.

When it died out, Butters finished his homework for good. He took Eric’s left arm and wrapped it around the back of his neck, leaned into Eric, guided him through his Algebra homework, and thought to him, _I’ll run away only to come back here a million times over if it’s with you. We’ll always be the runaways._


	3. OG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the original ending I wrote to the first part. It's not too different, but in this version, Butters and Cartman only get to the bridge before Cartman changes his mind. They go back to Butters' house. They have school in the morning when they wake up. They talk with their friends. It's less eventful and doesn't give "The Runaways" much meaning. The new ending, I feel, is more compelling and dramatic than this one.

Butters softly closed his bedroom door. He’d woken in the middle of the night with the urge to pee, so he had hurried to the bathroom. As he was climbing into bed, his phone on his bedside table buzzed. He wondered who it was as he picked up his phone. It was almost two in the morning. He saw he’d gotten a text from Eric.

It was a single message: **meet me there.**

Butters’ heart skipped a beat. Though it had been two years since Eric made his promise, Butters still remembered what he’d told him that night. _If you wanna run away, you know where to find me. I’ll meet you there._

Eric wanted to meet there. He wanted to run away.

Butters silently got out of bed again. He searched in the dark for the empty backpack and his shoes under his bed. Once he had his hands on them, he dropped necessities in the backpack: his phone, charger, wallet, spare clothes and underwear. He put on socks and shoved his feet into his shoes. He changed out of his pajamas. He found his coat on the back of his desk chair. He left through the window.

Butters didn’t take his bike. He walked quickly down the sidewalk to the U-Stor-It. With his head down, he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. His hands were cold, and he felt as if he wasn’t retaining enough heat. He felt that his cheeks were already beginning to freeze. He wondered why Eric wanted to run away. Their lives had been good so far.

The U-Stor-It closed at five p.m., and Butters only had the key to his and Dougie’s unit. He bit his lip, staring up at the fence. He’d have to climb it.

And that’s what he did.

On the other side, Butters made his way through the maze of storage units. When he got to Chaos’s headquarters, nobody was in sight. He spun in a slow circle, searching every shadow for Eric.

“Eric?” he whispered into the darkness.

“Up here.”

Butters jumped at the quiet words that floated down to him from above. He looked up. Eric was lying on his stomach on the roof of the storage unit. Butters watched Eric make his way down until he stood in front of him. Eric stood close. Their noses were centimeters apart. Eric’s breath plumed into the air, and Butters could feel it on his cheeks. He was comforted by it.

Eric moved slowly. His hands raised to Butters’ face, cupping his cheeks like he might kiss him. Eric’s hands were cold.

Butters allowed himself to glance at Eric’s lips before staring into his eyes. “Why do you wanna run away?” Butters asked.

Eric sighed deeply. The breath he exhaled was visible in the air between them, momentarily clouding Butters’ view of him. He touched his forehead to Butters’. He said, “Because junior year sucks.”

Butters wanted to laugh, though he found that he was unable. He rubbed his knuckles together before placing his hands flat on Eric’s chest. His right hand was over Eric’s heart.

Eric continued, “It’s so fucking stressful. And I’ve never been this stressed, dude. It’s complete shit.”

Butters nudged their noses together. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Eric nodded.

They jumped the fence of the U-Stor-It so they were on the sidewalk again. Eric adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. “I need to stop by the post office real quick,” he said.

Butters glanced at him. Eric’s hands were in the pocket of his hoodie. Butters slipped his hand in and laced his fingers with Eric’s. Butters said, “But isn’t the post office closed?”

The corner of Eric’s lips lifted. “That matters?” he said.

Butters scoffed a laugh. Of course something like closing hours didn’t matter to Eric.

Coming up to the post office, Eric put Butters’ hood over his head, then his own. He looked at Butters a certain way. Butters knew that look like the back of his hand. It indicated the beginning of something illegal. A drug-like shot of adrenaline and exhilaration sped through Butters’ veins. He flexed his left fist; his right was intertwined in Eric’s fingers.

They snuck around the back. Eric pulled his lock pick set from his backpack. With the lock undone, they walked into the dark post office on their tiptoes. They were behind the counter, surrounded by bins of letters and packages. Strange shadows formed on the walls and on the floor. The only source of light was the faint blue glow of the two computer monitors still displaying the lockscreens. Of all the places Butters had snuck into with Eric, this one looked the most haunting.

Eric moved first, hopping over the counter and going to the PO boxes on the wall. Butters followed him, keeping close to his shoulder. Eric pulled a key from the pocket of his sweatpants. On its chain was a white tag with the number 18 printed in black on it. It matched the number embossed on the PO box Eric was inserting the key into.

Butters’ sharp whisper took on an edge of panic. “Whose mailbox is this?”

Eric glanced at him. “My mom’s.” He turned the key and pulled open the little door.

From the angle Butters stood, the inside of the box was completely dark. Eric stuck his hand into it and pulled something out.

Butters jumped, hissing, “Is that a gun?”

Eric held his glock in front of his face. “Yeah.” He said it casually.

“Why do you keep your gun in your mom’s mailbox?”

Eric counted off the reasons on his fingers with the barrel of the gun. “Because she never uses it, and I have the spare key, and I can’t keep a gun in my room, and it’s illegal to possess a gun under twenty-one even though I’ve had this thing since, like, fourth grade, _and_ because if cops were to search my room and find the gun, they would be able to trace all the crimes I’ve committed back to me.” His fingers were splayed with the five reasons.

Butters said nothing.

Eric tucked his glock into the waistband of his gray sweatpants, pulling his hoodie over it so it was concealed. He slung his backpack off his shoulders. He zipped open the biggest pocket and dropped extra magazines into it.

“Why do you need a gun?” Butters asked. He was picturing him and Eric in a car chase with Eric shooting at the police cars, and Butters behind the wheel trying not to lose his cool.

Eric shrugged. “Emergencies. We’re gonna be off on our own, probably hitchhiking and getting into Ubers late at night. That’s when the creeps show up, you know? It doesn’t help that you have a baby face.”

Butters touched his cheek. He _did_ have a baby face, and he didn’t like it too much. It was often the reason people still believed him innocent and naive. Eric noticed the action, and it made him grin. He kissed Butters’ cheek. It made Butters grin a little too.

They left the post office, leaving everything as they’d found it. On their way out, Butters reminded Eric to lock the door back up. He did.

There was nobody out on Main Street. It felt like a ghost town to Butters. The wind in his ears was biting and loud and cold. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, technically today since it was probably three a.m. Butters and Eric used to not do much on Valentine’s Day. Two years ago, they would make fun of couples in the school hallways being mushy and kissy on Valentine’s Day. They’d make faces and gag at them like they weren’t doing the same with each other behind closed doors.

Butters smiled. They were hypocrites.

 _We still are,_ he thought warmly.

To Butters, last year was the first Valentine’s Day that actually felt like the exaggerated, romanticized day it was. They occasionally shared a quick peck in the school hallways when no one was looking. They bought each other the cheapest Valentine grams the school was selling. They walked home and traded cheesy, store-bought cards. They ate heart-shaped chocolates while they did their homework on the living room floor. At night, they huddled up under the covers, liplocking and feeling each other’s hot skin in fleeting touches.

Butters blushed at the memory. He was hoping Valentine’s Day this year would be like the year before—only going a step further since they’d gone a step further with each other during the summertime.

Butters shuddered, and not because of the cold, but because of the ghost of Eric’s body pressed against his.

Eric took the shudder as the cold seeping through Butters’ coat, and he wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close.

Now that they were running away, Butters’ fantasies of the night on Valentine’s Day in Eric’s bed were swept away with the wind.

Butters didn’t ask where they were going, or where Eric planned on running away to. Butters found that he liked it when he let Eric surprise him. Or more specifically, he liked to be surprised when he and Eric were on the same team, not opposite sides. Ever since that day in Butters’ room when they were thirteen, though, they were on each other’s team by default, and Butters wouldn’t change that for the world, even if it meant he would suffer a death of a thousand cuts.

They walked without speaking all the way to the edge of town, where the concrete sidewalk lined by colorful buildings faded into dirt paths surrounded by tall trees. Snow crunched underfoot. Butters looked over his shoulder, watching South Park get further and further away, the lights of the town getting dimmer and dimmer. The trees seemed to slowly close around the town like double doors towering above them.

“Where’re we goin’?” Butters finally decided to ask, unsettled by the cold trees closing in on them.

Eric’s arm was still around him, warm and secure. He said, “It’s better to leave town this way, so no one on the main road can see us and report us once the police start looking for us.”

Butters’ blood ran colder at the mention of police looking for them. That had happened to him a few times in his childhood, and none of the memories he had of it did he dote on.

It made Butters feel a bit more secure that Eric was following the snow-covered path separating the forest around them. The trees were so dense that Butters felt that leaving the path could have them lost for days.

The dark made it hard to see what exactly was before them, but everything was blanketed in powder white, as if glowing in the moonlight. Snow clung to the leaves of trees. It covered the forest floor. Their shoes, not made for hikes through late-night snow, left footprints behind them. Butters’ feet were frozen. He wished he had put on warmer socks and better shoes if he’d known they’d be going through the forest.

It was quiet too. There were no birds, no bugs, no life except for the whistling wind and the breath fogging the air in front of them. The air was as sharp and crisp as the wind.

Butters ran his tongue over his teeth because even they were cold. He craved to sit on the couch in a warm living room, nursing a mug of hot cocoa beneath a fuzzy blanket.

“How do you know where this trail leads?” Butters questioned.

Eric replied, “Remember the bike parade in fourth grade? Me, Kyle, and Stan walked up this path to think about how to get the parade canceled. Up a bit further is a bridge.”

“I’ve never been here before,” Butters said. He was trying to make small talk. The quiet of the night was getting to him.

Eric chuckled breathlessly, and it escaped his mouth in a white cloud. “I’ve never been past the bridge, but I know that if we follow the path, we’ll be out of here and onto the less busy parts of the road.”

Eric was right about the bridge, but Butters never doubted he was ever wrong about these kinds of things. They ran the short distance between, the flashlights on their phones lighting up the rest of the way. It was a stone bridge, suspended over a wide river completely frozen over. Standing on the bridge and peering over the edge, Butters could see the stand-still life beneath the ice. He could see rocks and black mud. The scarce plants appeared white. There were no fish or animal life.

Eric was beside him, and he said, “We’ll stop here for a break. The road is about half a mile more of walking that way.” He pointed ahead of them, to the other side of the bridge where the path continued.

Butters turned, and through the trees, he could see the distant lights of South Park below. It looked so small and toy-sized.

“How far have we walked?” Butters locked eyes with Eric.

He shrugged, taking his hands from his pockets to get his legs over the bridge so he could sit on the ledge. His feet dangled over the ice of the river. “A mile or three. I’m not sure. We’ve been walking for an hour, so nowhere close to town.”

Butters’ pale blue eyes blew open wide. “We were walkin’ for an _hour?_ It didn’t even feel like it.”

Eric looked at Butters, and Butters—for the first time that night—noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Eric said, “You’re tired. It warped your sense of time.”

Butters was tempted to correct him and tell him that it was him, Eric Theodore Cartman, that warped his sense of time, but the words died on his lips. Instead, he copied Eric, pressing up close to him, and sat on the bridge with his legs over the river.

Butters spent a lot of time observing it, willing the ice to melt and life to return to its waters. It didn’t happen. So he observed Eric. The heels of his shoes thumped against the stone of the bridge as his feet slowly swung back and forth. His right pant leg was crumpled up higher than the left, exposing his dark scraggly leg hair. His hands were in his lap in a loose ball. His fingertips were pink from the cold. His head was tilted upwards, towards the sky and the stars scattered like glitter above. The stars reflected on his smudged glasses. Somehow, the starlight passed through the lenses and trickled into his eyes.

Butters realized his left hand was on Eric’s chest, and one of the drawstrings of Eric’s hoodie was twisting between his fingers. He planted a kiss on Eric’s neck and put his head on his shoulder, staring up at the stars with him. They gleamed through the silhouetted leaves of the trees. The stars were brighter out in the forest, away from the eternal lights of the town.

Without taking his eyes off the sky, Eric broke the silence. “Can I hold your hand?”

The corner of Butters’ lips lifted. “If you wanna.”

Eric’s left hand abandoned his lap and drifted to Butters’ hand. He intertwined their cold fingers.

Butters’ words floated against Eric’s neck when he whispered, “Where’re we gonna go?”

Eric said, “Anywhere we want to. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere where no one can find us. And when we get there, we’ll start over. We’ll get jobs and buy a house, but we’ll never go back to school, because fuck that. But we’ll have to change our names first, so no one can find us easily.”

“I’ll change my last name to yours,” Butters said.

Eric laughed, and his mouth quirked up in a smile. “That shit’s fucked up.”

Butters pouted, offended by Eric not taking him seriously. “Yeah, it’s fucked up. But I’m fucked up.” He jabbed a finger in Eric’s chest. His hoodie string was still between his fingers. “And so are you. That’s why it’s perfect, and that’s why if I wanna take your last name, that’s okay.”

Eric met Butters’ eye. He sharpened his smile into a smirk. “I’m surprised you wanna take my last name. Butters Cartman.” He paused, letting the words sink in, feeling how they tasted and hearing how they sounded. He chuckled and shook his head. “Sounds stupid as shit.”

Butters stuck his bottom lip out further. He thumped Eric’s chest with the heel of his palm in defiance. “Hey, that’s mean. I… I—I kinda like it. And I’m takin’ _your_ last name ‘cause God knows you wouldn’t want _mine.”_

Eric, still smirking, scoffed. “What makes you assume that?”

Butters bit his bottom lip. He wondered if Eric would dislike his answer, or if he would be indifferent to it. Eventually, he decided to say, “ ‘Cause you don’t wanna share nothin’ with my parents, and if you took my last name, you’d share that with them.”

Eric huffed. “That’s not true. I share _you_ with your parents.”

Butters sighed deeply, slumping into Eric. “Aw, Eric. The second my parents stopped caring for me, I was all yours. Only yours.”

Eric went silent. His voice lost its edge when he spoke again, “Doesn’t matter. You can’t do that anyway. It’ll give us away if someone comes looking for us.”

Following that, he dropped Butters’ hand. He rubbed his neck, looking off, away from Butters. Butters felt as if he’d touched upon something he shouldn’t have. He moved his hand to his lap. His left hand drifted up to his face, and he put Eric’s hoodie drawstring in his mouth and chewed on the knotted end.

Butters longed for the chirp of crickets. He longed for the warmth of a bed. Most of all, he longed to be hidden away in Eric’s room, cradled in his arms.

Butters couldn’t remember when he developed the habit of chewing Eric’s hoodie strings. One day, he realized he was doing it, and he couldn’t stop.

Like every time he spent time with Eric, Butters lost his perception of time. He had no idea how long they were sitting there. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been four hours.

Eric was on his phone. There was little signal. Eric’s Instagram feed was gray with empty circles. In the corner of his screen, the time was displayed. 4:07 in the morning. Staring at the time brought exhaustion crashing into Butters. Along with it, a wave of yearning hit him. So vividly, he could see himself pressed into Eric’s bed, having his neck kissed, relishing the way Eric whispered _Mine_ between breaths. He could feel pressure on his chest, warmth on his lips, Eric’s hand in his pinned above his head. It was Valentine’s Day.

Butters felt homesick suddenly. The pressure on his chest was getting heavier, and he realized it wasn’t lust. It was overwhelming sadness. Butters didn’t want to run away. He wasn’t ready to leave the town he grew up in. He wasn’t ready to abandon all the memories he made in South Park. He wasn’t ready to stop waking up to find that he was tangled up with Eric in bed, wearing nothing but their boxers. Not yet. That’s what the summer after senior year was for.

Butters wanted to go home.

But he kept that within, choosing to say, “Should we keep goin’?” instead.

Eric sat there for a second, doing nothing. But then he took up Butters’ hand again, squeezing tightly—reassuringly. His smirk was soft. “Nah. Let’s go back home.”

Relief was like walking into a cool room after being out in the sweltering sun all day. Tension left Butters’ shoulders, tension he didn’t know he held.

“B-but what about running away?” he asked. He had to. Why was Eric having such an abrupt change of heart?

Eric shrugged. “I mean, I _guess_ I can try to get through junior year. There’s only, like, four months of school left.” He took in a breath sharply through his teeth. “And I heard senior year’s easy. So…” He shrugged again. “Might as well suck it up until then, right? Can’t pussy out now.”

Butters’ face split into a wide smile. He giggled. “Yeah,” he agreed.

They walked back the way they came, and Eric allowed Butters to swing their joined hands. Eric followed Butters home even though it was out of the way for him. They stood on the roof of the garage, under the window to Butters’ room.

Butters put his arms around Eric’s shoulders, pulling him close. Their noses touched. “Why doncha just stay the night here? I m-mean, we only have four more hours till school starts,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Eric asked. He probably had Butters’ parents in mind.

Butters nodded. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m sure.”

Eric helped Butters get into his room, and Butters pulled Eric up once he was within the walls. Butters’ room was warm, and the cold fell off him instantly.

Eric sighed heavily in relief. “I’m so glad today’s a late start day.”

Butters smiled. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but he felt he had the energy to take on the world.

Butters sat on his bed in a T-shirt and PJ pants, watching Eric undress. Even though Eric kept a few pajamas at the back of Butters’ dresser, he kept his sweatpants on, but took off his hoodie and his shirt. He dropped them on the floor, and when he turned, Butters saw the handle of Eric’s gun sticking out of the waistband of his pants.

Butters reached over to remove Eric of the gun. The darkness hid his blush as his hand neared Eric’s hips. Somewhere in the back of Butters’ mind, his inner voice echoed, _I love gray sweatpants._

Heat flaring in his cheeks, Butters pushed the thought aside. He held the gun in his hand, feeling the weight and the warmth lingering on the handle from the prolonged contact with Eric’s skin.

Butters murmured, “You didn’t need to use this, and I knew you wouldn’t need to.”

Without taking his eyes off Butters, Eric took the gun and set it on the nightstand. He put a knee on the bed—right between Butters’ legs—and his hands were gripping Butters’ shoulders. Butters’ breath caught as Eric’s face neared his. Butters was being lowered onto his back. That dim hope of Valentine’s Day once night hit was revived, but he corrected the fantasy to Valentine’s Day in the _early morning._

Getting a few hours of sleep before school started was suddenly invalid and unimportant.

His head was on his pillows, and Eric was above him. Butters’ heart was thudding in a steady rhythm. He could feel his own pulse.

And then that dark look in Eric’s eyes glinted, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He pressed a firm kiss to Butters’ lips. He rolled off, laid at Butters side, pulled Butters flush against him, and brought the thick blankets over their shoulders.

It hit Butters that he’d just been toyed with.

A few hours later, Butters woke to silence. Fear shot through him, and he sat up abruptly. He stuck his hand under his pillow and grabbed his phone. When he checked the time, it was 8:42. Butters sighed in relief, slumping over. School started at ten. They still had plenty of time.

At his side, Eric groaned, “What time is it?”

Butters dropped to his elbow, brushing Eric’s hair from his face. “Eight forty-two.”

Their noses hovered less than an inch apart, and Butters could feel Eric’s lips brush his when he spoke. “Let’s skip today.”

Butters smiled and scoffed, getting out of bed. “First you wanted to run away, now you wanna skip? You can’t have both.”

Eric groaned again, louder this time. “Fuuuuck.”

He was out of bed and dressed at precisely nine o’clock. His hair was messy and unbrushed, his eyes were half open, and he wore an early morning pout. Butters squeezed Eric’s cheeks with one hand. He wrinkled his nose and grinned at Eric’s puckered lips.

Eric’s words were garbled when he drawled, “I need to go home and get my shit… and shit.”

Eric got ditzy when he slept less than seven hours at night. Butters rose to his tiptoes and gave Eric a peck.

They walked to Eric’s. Eric leaned half his body weight on Butters.

Butters waited by Eric’s car as he trudged up the stairs of his home to get the things he needed for school. Eric came down, dragging his feet and his backpack.

In the driver’s seat of the car, Eric squinted at the garage doors through the windshield. Butters giggled, pushing Eric’s glasses onto his nose.

“Oh, right,” Eric said. He sighed heavily. “I forgot I’m blind.” He threw an arm around the back of Butters’ seat and turned so he could back out of the driveway.

They arrived at school with seven minutes to waste. They would’ve had more time if they hadn’t stopped by Tweek Bros for breakfast. They lingered at Eric’s locker. It had become the unofficial meeting spot for the mornings since the beginning of the year.

Butters’ neck was in Eric’s left hand, and Butters’ head was tilted that way too. He stared at the black cap between Eric’s straight white teeth. The marker was in Eric’s right hand, and the tip of that marker was dancing across the side of Butters’ neck.

“What’re you writing?” Butters asked.

“You’ll see,” Eric promised around the cap of the Sharpie.

“It better not be anything inappropriate. I have History, and you know how Mr. O can get,” Butters warned.

“It’s not inappropriate.”

Eric pulled back, capped the pen, took his phone from the bottom of his open locker, and snapped a picture of Butters’ neck. He showed him the picture. On the side of Butters’ neck, Eric had written Property of E. Cartman in Sharpie.

Eric shot Butters a shit-eating grin, sticking his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Happy Valentine’s Day, B-Butts,” he said. He leaned over and shortly kissed Butters’ gaping mouth.

At that moment, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny with his arm around Henrietta’s shoulders walked up to Butters and Eric.

Kenny laughed out loud upon seeing Eric’s message on Butters’ neck.

Butters glared at Kenny, then whined to Eric, “It’s gonna take forever to wash off.”

Henrietta momentarily looked up from her phone. Her eyes landed on Butters’ neck. “You should get that tattooed on you.” The way her lips lifted in a mischievous smile was surprising to Butters.

Eric said, “And look, when I do this…” He got in front of Butters and loosely wrapped his hand around Butters’ neck. “You can still see it.”

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny took notice of the way the writing was perfectly situated under Eric’s thumb, easy to see.

“Really, though?” Stan said, grinning. “The choke?” His eyes flickered from Eric’s hand to Eric’s face.

Eric mirrored his grin and shrugged. When he kissed Butters this time, it was heavy, and the hand around Butters’ neck tightened in the slightest way.

The way Butters’ friends stared at him once the kiss was broken made him want to sink to the floor and turn invisible, though that was impossible due to his cherry red face.

Butters silently thanked Kyle when he glossed over the topic and started a new one. “I had the worst sleep last night.” He dragged his hand down his face, as if to emphasize the shadows under his eyes.

Stan nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

Butters saw the smirk Eric directed at Kyle. “Why, Kyle?” he taunted. “Is it because you didn’t have Heidi to warm your bed last night like she usually does?”

Kyle pinned Eric with a deadly glare. “Says you, Cartman. You literally just wrote your name on Butters and put your hand around his neck.”

“So? I didn’t eat his pussy like you did Heidi,” Eric fired back.

Color crept up Kyle’s neck. “Keep my girlfriend’s name out your mouth, Cartman. And I didn’t eat her pussy,” he argued through gritted teeth.

Stan pointed out, “The hickey behind your ear says otherwise.”

Kyle clapped a hand over the hickey, staring bug-eyed at Stan. “Stan!” Kyle barked.

Stan shrugged, nonchalant.

Kenny shot them all puzzled looks. “I slept great last night.”

Eric rolled his eyes in a playful way. “Yeah, I’m sure you did, Kenny.”

“I dreamt and everything. Best sleep I’ve had all week,” Kenny said.

Stan grumbled, “We don’t doubt that.”

Henrietta said nothing. Instead, she bit her bottom lip around a smirk. Her fingers were adorned with silver rings, and those fingers slid up Kenny’s shirt, dragging the hem up too. Kenny’s lean midriff was exposed. His cheeks went pink as his face grew into a slow, easy grin.

Everyone traded wide-eyed, knowing looks. They all knew why Kenny slept so well last night.

Stan nudged Butters in the side with his elbow. “How’d you sleep?”

Butters’ eyes darted to Eric. Eric’s face was schooled into impassiveness.

Their friends snickered, assuming the look meant something more lascivious than it was. Neither Eric nor Butters said anything to correct them, even as Butters was transported back to only a few hours previous. He could see his hand in Eric’s, being led into the forest, thinking they’d skip town with no one knowing.

Eric said, “I hardly got any sleep last night.”

“Yeah. Only a few hours,” Butters agreed, blushing and looking down at his shoes.

Stan snorted, “Teenagers and Valentine’s Day shouldn’t be allowed to mix.”

Eric put in, “Just because Wendy’s a prude doesn’t mean you have to talk like you’re above sex.”

Stan sputtered, “She’s not a prude!”

Kyle said, “She kinda is, dude.”

Stan looked to Kenny—and maybe even Henrietta—for consolation, but it was hopeless. They were too busy making out against the lockers to notice Stan’s desperation for help.

Kyle scratched the side of his nose where his piercing was. Stan looked down the hallway. Eric was on his phone. Butters grabbed Eric’s hoodie string and put it in his mouth. Eric glanced up and stared at him. Butters stared back.

Eric pocketed his phone, and put his arms around Butters instead. Butters gratefully leaned into the embrace. Home was always between Eric’s arms. He felt warm and secure there.

Overhead, the warning bell rang. Kyle glanced at each of them. “I gotta go to Trig. See you at lunch,” he said.

He broke off from the group. Even though Stan had English, he followed Kyle at his heels. His English classroom was a longer walk from the math wing than it would be where they stood at Eric’s locker, but Stan walked with Kyle to third period every Wednesday. Stan claimed it was because Wendy also had Trig Honors third period and he met up with her there, and that was true, but Butters believed Stan walked with Kyle because he wanted to have time to talk to Kyle alone.

Butters poked Kenny in the shoulder. He was still all over Henrietta. He probably hadn’t heard the bell. Kenny broke away from her, looking at Butters in a puzzled way as if he was dragged from a haze, which Butters guessed he was, in a way.

Butters said to him around Eric’s drawstring still between his teeth, “The bell rang.”

“It did?” Kenny said. He pulled away from Henrietta, but he kept both his hands in hers.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Eric drawled with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh.”

Kenny and Henrietta led Butters and Eric away from the lockers and toward their third periods. Butters and Eric hung back from the couple ahead of them. They traded a glance. Butters could feel the same thought passing through their minds: _Keep what happened last night between only us._ Eric squeezed Butters’ hand.


End file.
